Chapter 53
Author's Notes: First off, be warned of two things:
1- This is the last chapter of this story. Yes, though it seems highly unlikekly, it is true, I've finaly finished "Save Yourself."
and
2 - I will be as straightforward as possibe on this - trust me, you will not like how this ends up.
So, having been warned, please refrain from complaining if you choose to continue reading.
Thank you, and try to enjoy.
He leaned in and used his arms to pull her body flush against his, desperately hauling her closer. Lips locked over hers, he pushed into her personal space, clumsily shambling forward and making her back paddle. She staggered ineptly with frenzied hands, scrambling to lock them around his neck, clinging to him and dragging him with her.
A jolt of pain rushed through her when her back connected with a hard concrete surface. She tore her mouth away and gasped for air.
"Ribs..." She panted.
Her beaded forehead rested on his, barely keeping him at bay. Dean wrinkled his brow, taken aback by the sudden loss of her lips; his lust soaked brain unwilling to register her protest.
'Lips... More... Now...' was pretty much the mantra drumming away in his mind, and with a deep intake of breath, he dove in.
An actual whine escaped him when she bowed her head, effectively dogging his mouth.
He pressed on.
Closing her eyes against the chaos of emotions, she hissed before his lips had a chance to capture hers:
"Ribs..."
"Kiss now. Eat later."
When it came to Dean Winchester, there were very few things that took priority over food. Very few. Making out with Amy Carrington was - most definitely - one of them.
It was Amy's turn to frown.
"Huh?"
Leaning into her was his response. He groaned at the fisted hand on his hair that kept him from reaching her mouth.
"Not the food! My ribs!"
He was at a loss.
Reigning in the part of him that simply wanted to ignore the interruption, he reluctantly pulled back to examine her face.
"I think I might have cracked a couple back there." She explained shifting against the wall with a grimace.
At her pain stricken expression any trance of lust was drained from his body and promptly replaced by concern.
Suddenly, she was being dragged out of the living room by her arm and plopped down onto the kitchen table.
Under the fluorescent lights she watched his worried fingers unceremoniously undo the buttons of her shirt. By the time she decided to issue some sort of smug protest his hands were on her ribcage and her breath hitched.
"Jesus Christ, Amy..." He gasped.
What? It couldn't be that bad.
She looked down at herself.
'O-oh...'
Apparently, it was.
Angry bruises stained her skin all along the underside of her breasts down to the muscles of her belly.
Thought it stung a bit, she couldn't help her stomach from fluttering when he tentatively traced the contours of a particularly nasty contusion.
The odd combination of pain and desire caused her to stutter:
"I-It's ok."
"It's not ok!" He immediately growled.
How could she be so carefree about this? Look at her. She was-
"Shit!" He cursed finding a fresh, three inch gash running down her side.
She jumped back and inhaled sharply when he touched it.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"Sorry." His apologetic eyes met hers; aggravation instantly morphing into worry.
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.
"I'm so sorry, Amy." He repeated weakly.
There was no hiding the remorse from his voice.
She gave him a half-smile and his heart sank.
Swallowing back the guilt, he drew closer. He placed a soft peck on her lips and stepped back with a deep intake of air.
"Bobby's got a first aid kit somewhere around-"
Her hands on the lapels of his shirt kept him from moving further away from her and he looked up quizzically.
His forehead furrowed.
Why was she smiling? No, make that smirking! That was definitely a smirk.
"What?" He questioned confused.
Her lips curled mischievously.
If that wasn't enough to make him absolutely sure about her intentions, her next move made them crystal clear.
"Amy..." Her name rumbled in his chest as her hand hooked on the front pocket of his jeans.
A quick tug and he stumbled into the space between her parted thighs. She seized the opportunity to wrap her legs around him, towing him in.
"Amy..." It was supposed to sound scolding. It came out raspy and needy.
Unsure, he kept perfectly still, staring at her moving closer until she was nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. His eyes rolled back behind half-closed lids and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down pathetically.
"Amy... We need to... just let me...-"
Her tongue came into play and a strangled moan echoed in the tiled room. It took a few seconds for Dean to register that the guttural mewl had come from his suddenly dry throat.
Jesus Christ, that felt...
"I... have to... we should check your..."
Though he was saying one thing, his body acted out of its own accord, slanting towards hers, with his hips involuntarily pushing forward and his head lolling back to give her better access.
Out of nowhere, a resounding crashing noise sliced through his foggy mind.
Their eyes snapped open and Amy pulled back.
"What was that?"
Muffled shouts echoing from the basement mixed with the distinct sound of a gun going off.
"Sammy..." Dean gasped.
The next second Amy was off the table, trailing after him, rushing down the crooked staircase.
She reached the final steps just in time to dodge Sammy's body as it was hurled passed her. He collided painfully against one of the wooden beams before plummeting to the ground. Next to him, ripped out of its hinges, was the metallic door which once led to the chamber at the far end of the room.
"My god..." She breathed.
Her frightened gaze zeroed in on the white-eyed figure standing in the centre of the basement. Failure to recognize Michael in the sneer-distorted face sent a burning chill rippling down her spine.
"Sammy!"
Dean's yell sounded distant and it hardly registered in her brain. Out of the corner of her eyes she noted him scrambling to aid his brother. She knew she should go to him, but she remaining perfectly still, spellbound by the creature glaring back at her.
"You ok?" Dean's questioned, hastily pushing Sam's hair out of the way to check for concealed wounds.
Sam shook his head and blinked a couple of times, then nodded clumsily.
Reassured about his brother's safety, Dean's attention turned to scan the room. Bobby's unconscious form rested motionless at Michael's feet; a twine of blood trickled from a slash on the hunter's right cheekbone to stain his ruffled beard.
"Glad you could join us, pumpkin pie. Three just don't make for much of a party." Lilith mocked, locking stares with Amy.
In a blink, Dean was up and standing in front of Amy.
"That's so sweet." Lilith sniggered.
Dean planted his feet firmly on the ground as the demon took a step towards them.
In the commotion Amy had failed to notice when it had happened but, somehow, the Colt had materialized in Dean's hand.
He raised it, aiming straight for Michael's chest, spurring her into action.
"No!"
Driven by pure instinct, she smacked his arm out of the way just as he pulled the trigger. An ear-piercing blast slashed through the ominous stillness but instead of the desired target, the bullet grazed past Michael to ricochet off the concrete wall.
Dean glowered at Amy. When he turned, intent on having another go at it, Michael was already sinking inertly to the floor.
Above him - a thick cloud of dark smoke. It hovered there for a few moments before it suddenly funnelled and darted towards the pair. Dean whirled around intuitively, one arm shielded his eyes while the other circled Amy protectively, trapping her in an unyielding embrace.
He felt her shudder for a second or two. The curve of her spine, moulded back into the line of his forearm and Dean's eyes snapped wide open.
Her chin was raised, head pulled back, neck stretched to its limit and auburn locks cascaded down to her hips.
Gradually, her body relaxed. She straightened up, bringing her face inches from his.
In place of twin hazel-green iris all he found were two pasty, lifeless orbs.
As if he'd been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer he reeled back, letting go of her.
"Ah..." There was an unfamiliar, acerbic timber to that sigh. It didn't belong to Amy. "Much better..." It purred, gliding forward and swallowing what little distance Dean's back paddling had created between them.
Instead of pulling away, he kept frozen in place, letting it run its fingers over the front of his shirt all the way down to his churning stomach.
"This feels much... much better..."
She sneered; the green returning to her eyes.
It jostled Dean out of his daze - jaw clenched and muscles twitched.
"I always was partial to smaller packaging." She jeered, looking up at him with childlike awe that made the acid in his gut crawl up to his throat.
"You sick bitch!" Dean gritted between clenched teeth.
"Aw, come on Dean... that is no way to speak to a lady." Lilith admonish almost playfully.
He flinched and jerked back at the hand coming up to brush along the underside of his jaw line.
"What's the matter, silly? I thought you liked this one..." Amy's mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk.
"Let her go." He bit out.
She seemed to ponder this before stepping away to amble about the room.
"I don't think so... It seems..." She pinned him with a devious glare. "...appropriate."
"I swear to God-"
"Let's try to keep Him out of this." She spat, suddenly peeved.
Her attention was drawn to the younger of the Winchesters as Sam hauled himself to his feet. He clung to his ribcage, nostrils flaring with every intake of air.
The three formed a tense and silent triangle, exchanging stares between each other until Lilith let out an impish giggle.
"Oh, goody! Wonder what's gonna happen now..."
Hands rubbing together, clearly amused by the outcome, she began playing with the silver band.
Sam's eyes grew large, watching the ring slide loosely up and down the slender finger without ever coming all the way off.
"Nifty little trinket." Lilith decided. "Shiny."
Sam prepared to lunge at her when the metal reached the tip of her nail.
"Na-ah..." Lilith's warning paralysed him. "Butterfinger, you nutty goose... butterfingers. Remember, we don't want Dean turning into puppy chow, do we?"
Sam's hands fisted at his sides, the veins in his forearms surfacing angrily over stiffened muscles.
"Good doggy." She slurred sliding up his chest, cocking her head to the side and presenting him with a toothy smile.
"I'm going to kill you." He warned with a low growl.
"While I'm wearing this pretty meat suit?" She laughed.
Gingerly flipping her hair, she looked over her shoulder.
Still grinning, she abandoned Sam and stalked towards the only other conscious man in the room.
"I don't think it's gonna sit well with big brother over here if you shoot his girlfriend."
Dean swallowed dryly at her closeness.
"He likes her... don't you?"
Toe-to-toe, she whispered:
"Tell you a secret. I like her too. She's a pistol; wriggling and squirming in here like a silly rabbit." Her nose wrinkled and she added: "It itches."
She sensed Dean's grip on the revolver tightening and poignantly looked down.
"Planning on using that..." She questioned, locking in on his face. "...on her?"
The click of the hammer being uncocked made her smile widen.
Shocked, Sam followed the gun as it fell limply from Dean's hand to skim across the floor.
"I didn't think so."
"Dean..."
But he wasn't listening. All he could think of was Amy.
"Let's see. This is quite a conundrum we've got here."
"Cut the creepy yapping. It's giving me a headache." Dean cut her off curtly and straightened up. "Just get it over with already."
"Dean!"
"Stay out of this, Sammy!" He barked, never taking his eyes off the demon.
"You're no fun." Lilith pouted and resumed twirling the ring. "Don't you wanna know what she's thinking...?"
Dean remained impervious to her provocation so she edged on:
"She wasn't lying, you know?"
Still, there was no response from the hunter.
"When you asked her to say it... she wasn't lying."
The spark in Dean's eyes caused her to chuckle.
Gotcha!
"And you know what the kicker is...?"
He fought to keep his face from showing any kind of reaction.
He failed.
"Trinket or no trinket..." She paused for momentum and when she spoke again her tone was just slightly above a murmur: "...she still would have fallen for you."
His lids fell closed and his throat collapsed at the revelation.
"But then again... so would you, wouldn't you, Dean?"
He forced himself to look down at her.
"Shut up." He faltered at the sight of Amy.
"Time to say goodbye, Dean..."
He nodded.
A click ruptured the invisible cocoon which separated them from the rest of the world and the two turned to find Sam. The Colt was in his hand, cocked, ready and directed at Amy.
"Sammy!" Dean roared, voice charged with a toxic mix of anger and terror. "Put it down."
When his brother didn't concede he repeated more forcefully:
"Put the gun down, Sam!"
The command was issued in a way that brought the memory of their father to the forefront of Sam's mind.
"I'm not gonna let you go to hell, Dean!"
"Yes, you are!"
"Anyone else having a strange sense of déjà vu?" Lilith popped a jaded eyebrow.
The two ignored her.
"I'm sorry, Dean, I have to do this." Sam's hand never wavered, but Lilith appeared unfazed by his threat, confident that he would never shoot Amy.
"Sam, put the goddamn gun down, now!" Dean bellowed; panic seeping into his words.
"I'm sorry..." Sam rasped adjusting his aim.
Dean jerked.
"No! No, no, no!"
Realising ordering wasn't going to work, he resorted to begging:
"Sammy! Just-Just let go... don't..."
There was a spark of hope when Sam finally turned and the two locked gazes.
"Please, Sammy..."
The taller man watched his brother's stare grow glassy and bloodshot.
"Please... don't..." His voice dropped. "...I love her..."
Sam's eyes widened, stunned by the unexpected admission.
Though it stung like hell, he repeated it with a pain-filled chuckle:
"I love her..."
The seconds stretched agonizingly between the two. Dean scrutinized Sam's face. He knew him like the back of his own hand and though to anyone else there was no apparent change in his expression, Dean caught it - the exact moment Sam made his decision.
It triggered his own.
Stepping forward, he placed himself directly in the line of fire, using his frame to shield Amy from Sam.
Sam's alarmed stare fell on Dean's hands.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry!" Dean breathed, pulling at the metal ring on his finger.
"Dean, no!"
Before Sam managed to issue his plea, he slipped it off.
Almost immediately, the ground started to quake and close after the scratching and snarling began at the top of the stairs.
Sam pounced in Amy's direction, trying to push past Dean. But the older hunter anticipated his move and blocked his passage.
In his despair, Sam allowed the Colt to be snatched from his hand. He tried to wrestle it back, but ended up staggering back when Dean shoved him forcefully.
With an outstretched arms and an open hand, Dean kept him at bay, all the while hearing the hellhounds hungrily trudging down the staircase.
"It's over, Sammy."
"No!"
Dean closed his eyes.
They were close now. He could feel one of them sniffing his way up his left ankle; its dripping, warm pants dampening the edge of his jeans.
He was ready.
Inhaling deeply, he looked up at his brother. His lips curled to the side for one last smugly defiant grin.
Insolence warped into agony at the first sharp claw that sank into the back of his shirt. It sliced effortlessly through fabric and flesh and Dean's jaw fell open, releasing a gut wrenching howl.
Spine arched, neck corded, he sank to his knees at his brother's feet.
Another hack and he toppled to the ground on his stomach.
Satisfied with the damage they'd inflicted on his back, the hellhounds flipped him over and started working on his chest and thighs.
For the second time in his life, Sam was forced to stand by and watch as the invisible creatures shredded and ripped their way though Dean's body. He watched him jerk and convulse, watched him fight to stifle his cries, watched him choke and struggle for air, with blood streaming through pursed lips and tightly clenched teeth.
Though it couldn't have taken the hellhounds more than three minutes to finish their gruesome task, the spectacle seemed to drag on for an eternity.
When they were done there was no recognizable hint of the cocky hunter in the mangled heap of torn cloth and twisted limbs.
Something shifting in the corner of his tear-filled eyes yanked Sam out of his sorrow and his glare zeroed in on Lilith.
His reaction was instinctual and driven by raw fury.
He dove for the revolver. Grabbing it, he reeled up and, from his spot on the floor aimed for the demon.
Lilith towered over him, tilting Amy's head to the side.
"You sure you wanna do that, Sammy?"
Poignantly, she let her gaze drift to his brother's corpse.
"Dean's gone." He snarled cocking the hammer.
Lilith's smile crumbled.
A moment's hesitation was all she needed and she got it.
At Sam's wavering resolve, Amy's mouth snapped open. Black smoke rushed out of her, escaping through every available crack in the ceiling and leaving the human vessel behind to tumble unconsciously to the ground.
